


The Gift

by Miss M (missm)



Category: Tintin (Comics), Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Pets, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5466593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missm/pseuds/Miss%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Captain Haddock acquired his Siamese cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kindkit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindkit/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, Kindkit! This doesn't directly match your prompts, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.
> 
> (Also, I borrowed the use of "thunder and lightning" as one of Haddock's interjections from your fics; please accept it as homage -- I find it very Haddock-like, myself!)

The look on Monsieur Haddock's face as he stared at the cage by the door was a sight for the ages, but Nestor would never dream of letting it show. "What _is_ that?" 

"A cat, I believe, sir." 

"Of course it's a cat! But blistering barnacles, who gives animals as gifts these days?" He shook his head, face turning red. "Irresponsible troglodytes -- and I don't have the time to look after a cat anyway, not with all these mad adventures I keep getting roped into!" 

"I will of course assist you, sir." Nestor rather thought Monsieur Haddock seemed torn halfway between outrage and a desire to squat down by the cage and say _puss puss puss_.

The cage had been delivered with an accompanying note stating it was an early Christmas gift from "thankful neighbours". Presumably this would refer to the Captain's having donated a considerable sum of money to replacing the school's roof -- that was the explanation Nestor had suggested. The cat was a Siamese, from the look of it, and those were expensive and highly prized creatures. Perhaps this was the best way the givers had of expressing their gratitude?

"A good whisky would have gone a long way in that case," Monsieur Haddock grumbled. "And what's the point of spending that much money on a cat? The ones we had on board were common ones, tabbies and gingers, and they all were fine mousers. No pedigree needed." 

"You had cats on your ships, sir?"

"Always. A ship with no cats is no ship." The Captain's face softened, becoming almost nostalgic. "There was one called Bobby I remember in particular. Uncommonly smart. He used to come to my cabin in the mornings to show off the mice he'd caught, but he'd keep me company in the evenings as well..." 

Then he shook himself with a snort. "A Siamese! What use could I have for a cat like that? Do they even know how to hunt?" 

"We could find out," Nestor suggested. Privately, he liked the thought of having a cat in the house, despite the prospect of stray hairs and muddy paw prints. At least it would be less boisterous than Monsieur Tintin's dog. 

Monsieur Haddock let out a _hmmph_ , which Nestor took as permission to bow down and open the cage. Inside, the cat crouched nervously, eyes large. "You should have a look at it, sir," Nestor said, getting back to his feet. "It's your gift, after all."

The Captain mumbled something that sounded like "philistines". He crouched down to have a closer look, but the cat still gave no sound or sign of moving. "Nervous," Monsieur Haddock declared. "We'll move the cage somewhere quiet and safe until we find out where it came from. I'll not have Moulinsart be the place where cold-hearted vandals go to dump their pets!" 

Nestor closed the door to the cage, lifted it up and carried it to one of the unused bedrooms. The furniture was old and worn, and so was the wallpaper; a few scratches here and there would not make a difference. He gently sat down the cage in a corner and opened the door again. When he came back with a bowl of water and one with some scraps of meat, the cat had not moved.

"Our master is a kind man," Nestor told it, placing the food and water by the wall, not too far from the cage. "A little loud at times, if I may say so, but one gets used to it, and I daresay you could not have come to a better place." 

He straightened and looked around. Indeed, an animal would help in livening up the place a bit. Monsieur Haddock was lonely, he suspected. Of course, Monsieur Tintin would come here regularly -- and Monsieur Haddock was never happier than on those occasions -- and sometimes they would both be gone on one of their dangerous adventures, but between those occasions there were quiet, ordinary days filled with quiet, ordinary tasks. A pet might provide a welcome addition to the household, especially if it did indeed know how to catch mice and rats. 

"You will get used to it," he said again. Then he left the room and went in search for a box to fill with sand. 

 

*

 

Two days later, on the day before Christmas Eve, Monsier Haddock had come no further in his search for the mysterious benefactors. The cat, on the other hand, had ventured out of its cage between Nestor's visits and helped itself to food and water, as well as making use of the litter box. It still hid when he came, but sometimes he would catch a glimpse of light fur and dark paws, or blue eyes watching him curiously from under the bed as he replaced food or sand. 

"So not only did they give me a cat I didn't ask for, but they gave me a cat that doesn't set foot outside of its own room," Monsieur Haddock said to Monsieur Tintin, who had come to spend Christmas at Moulinsart. "What am I going to do with such a creature?" 

"Give it time." Monsieur Tintin smiled, petting his dog. He had called in advance to let them known when he'd arrive; Nestor had double-checked that the cat's door was closed. "It's not a hardy sailor like your ship's cats, Captain. The poor thing is probably sensitive." 

"So who on Earth gives it away to a stranger? How do they know I'm not some visigoth who skins cats alive?" 

Monsieur Tintin laughed. "Nobody would think that!" he said, causing the Captain to blush ever so slightly. "But I agree, it seems irresponsible. Perhaps I could help you look for clues..."

Nestor intervened, placing the tray of coffee and cake on the table between them. "Anything else, messieurs?"

"I'd like to see the cat afterwards," Tintin said with another smile. "If we can put Milou somewhere safe. Would you mind, Nestor?" 

"Not at all." It was, he thought, a good thing that Monsieur Tintin was showing interest. Perhaps he was not the only one who thought a pet would do the Captain good. 

When they entered the room, the cat was sitting on top of the bed, blinking towards them. This was not at all a daily occurrence, but perhaps she could sense Monsieur Tintin's benevolence, and of course she would have got somewhat used to Nestor by now. 

Monsieur Tintin crouched by the bed and reached out a finger to the cat, who carefully stretched her head to sniff it and then withdrew. "Aw, but you're pretty," he cooed encouragingly. "Very pretty... There were no signs of who the givers were, Nestor? Not even in the note?"

"None, sir. The note was written on a typewriter."

"Hm." Monsieur Tintin looked thoughtful. The cat eyed them both suspiciously, then vanished under the bed.

"If the cat came from a breeder, they should be possible to find," he said at last. "Otherwise it might be hopeless."

"Hopeless, sir, and..." Nestor hesitated for a moment. 

"Yes?"

"Meaningless, if I may be so bold. Monsieur is fond of cats. His first thought was for the animal's well-being. What would we do if we found the givers and they refused to take her back? I think Moulinsart may not be the worst home for her. And between you and me, sir, I believe Monsieur would not mind having a pet, once he came to know her."

"Ah." Monsieur Tintin gave him a long look, before nodding slowly. "I see. Well, I believe you may be right. Unless the givers change their mind and let themselves be known, there is nothing more we can do at the moment."

"Thank you, sir." 

As he closed the door behind them, Nestor glanced back into the unlit room. From the darkness under the bed, he saw a pair of blue eyes blinking at him. 

 

*

 

"Now then," Monsieur Haddock said later in the evening, warming his hands at the roaring fire in the parlour. "What do we do about our four-legged guest? She still seems skittish."

"So you have been to see her today, sir?" Nestor asked. 

"Indeed," Monsieur Tintin confirmed from his armchair. "The Captain and I went back after lunch. He wanted to see for himself how she was doing."

Monsieur Haddock flushed ever so slightly. "Why shouldn't I?" he said, a touch defensively. "The cat was a gift for me, after all. Thunder and lightning, to think that someone would leave a defenceless beast with a stranger..."

"If you don't mind my saying so, they must have known you would give her a good home." 

"Ha!" said the Captain gruffly. "When did I say she could stay?" 

Nestor inclined his head. "Should I try to find her a new home, sir?" 

"New home, new home... I didn't say that either." He turned to Monsieur Tintin, who had hidden his smile behind his newspaper. "Couldn't you track down these scoundrels, Tintin? Simply to hold them responsible?" 

"I could always try," Monsieur Tintin said. "But as I said to Nestor earlier, it might be hopeless." 

The Captain opened his mouth, but before he could say anything more, there was a delighted sound from Monsieur Tintin. "Aw, but look who's here!" 

All heads turned, catching a shadow swiftly retreating back into the hallway. The dog jumped up with a bark, and Monsieur Tintin scooped him up in his arms immediately, putting his hand over his snout. "Quiet, Milou!"

"Here, here, pussy," Monsieur Haddock called in a soft voice, taking a few steps towards the door. Then he stopped, as if embarrassed. "Well. I hadn't expected that."

He kept glancing in the direction of the hallway, and Monsieur Tintin smiled. "Go and see if she's approachable, Captain," he said. "I know you want to."

"Scallywag," Monsieur Haddock growled, but there was a fond smile on his face. He turned and disappeared into the hallway, from where cooing noises soon could be heard. Monsieur Tintin laughed.

"Well, Nestor," he said. "Sounds like Moulinsart will have a new permanent resident from now on."

Nestor had been occupied dusting the shelves. Now he straightened his back and met Monsieur Tintin's eyes. "One may be tempted to think so, sir."

"In all confidence," Monsieur Tintin said, "do you truly have no idea where the cat came from? Not the faintest clue?"

Nestor held his gaze. "Ask no questions and you will hear no lies, Monsieur Tintin." 

The Captain reappeared in the hallway. "Thunder and lightning!" he said, staring bemusedly down at his own arms. They were cradling the cat, who had nestled against his chest, scanning the parlour with wide blue eyes. 

"A true Christmas miracle," Monsieur Tintin said, keeping a safe hold on his dog. "Don't you agree, Nestor?" 

Nestor bowed his head slightly, then went to prepare dinner. As he passed Monsieur Haddock, who was still holding the cat and petting her with careful motions, he briefly glanced into those blue eyes. They blinked at him, and this time Nestor blinked back.


End file.
